


Dancing With Death

by vismundcygnus



Category: Original Work, Villain (Graphic Novel), Villain - Haruspex (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vismundcygnus/pseuds/vismundcygnus
Summary: Who doesn't want to share a dance with a Victorian surgeon who represents Death?OC x gender neutral 3rd-person reader.
Relationships: William Amery/reader
Kudos: 4





	Dancing With Death

**Author's Note:**

> A purely self-indulgent OC fic about sharing a dance.  
> 3rd person/gender neutral, whatever gender you want the subject to be.  
> Supposed to be a William Amery x Reader but I took liberties, of course.  
> I wrote this for fun, so enjoy, or don't!

That evening was a merry gathering of medical students who attended London's 'Royal Medical School'. Graduation was soon, but who didn't love socialising? Especially after the returning student's harrowing journey overseas that almost cost them their lives. Having them all come back safe and sound was to be celebrated.

They had come with their friends, " _It will be fun!_ " They clamoured, " _After all, there will be so many well-to-do surgeons, and we aren't getting any younger!_ " Always the matchmaking opportunities, their friends putting on their fanciest wares to go out into the city.

They had felt so nervous, twisting a handkerchief back and forth to vent their tense nerves. They watched as all their friends were introduced and gradually lead out to dance with a graceful bow from the gentleman and a curtsy from the women. They sighed, looking left, right, and seeing no one interested in doing the same with them.

The night was winding down, people were beginning to leave and they sat glancing at the polished ballroom dance floor in disappointment, watching dance after joyous dance,  
"No one even asked me to dance..." They scoffed to themselves, "... Guess it doesn't matter, I don't even know the first thing about dancing."

"You don't know how to dance?" A deep voice from somewhere had startled them, as they had thought they were speaking only to themselves, with no expectation of response. Craning their neck upwards to find the tall, dark gaze of a gentleman dressed in the utmost pristine manner, save for his wild raven hair.

"My apologies if I have startled you. It was not my intention."

"No no, it's fine. I've just found myself feeling a bit blue... I wanted to dance all night, I was waiting for an invitation, but what does it matter? I was never taught how to dance. I suppose I thought maybe I would pick it up, in the moment... But that is silly, childish thinking, no?"

The tall and pale man swirled whatever wine was left in his glass, glancing at the band that was playing a romantic waltz before returning his attention to swallowing the rest of the contents in his glass. Placing the empty wine glass down on the nearest table, the man moved directly in front of the seated other, giving a bow, as was tradition.

"May I have this dance?"

"R-Really? Right now? Are you sure? I..."

They stammered, trailing off. A million thoughts running through their head; The pressure of saying no, of saying yes, the red stain of wine on his teeth and pale lips, and their inability to carry themselves in any sort of dancing weighing heavily on their decision.

"I am sure. Do I have the honour?"

He held his position, his hand outstretched to them, they took his hand and stood.  
  
"Mr. Amery." He spoke, "And you are...?"  
  
They imparted their name in return, still trying to shake off their nerves and act natural.  
  
"... It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."  
  
"The pleasure is all mine."

"Mr. Amery," They started, being lead over towards the dance floor. "I'm really nervous about this."

Smiling, he softens his demeanour and leans into their ear, as it would be rude to shout over the music.  
  
"No need to be shy, love. We'll take this slow."

In gentle motions, he takes his leading position, his right hand out to receive their left. His left finds it's place at their side, a motion that makes them jump ever so slightly. He could feel the tenseness with his partner and takes pause. He tilts his head, trying to measure their comforts before proceeding. They can feel his hands are ice cold though his white gloves, a stark contrast to the other's warmth.  
  
"Are you ready?"

"Yes, I am ready."

"Move with me."

A voice as smooth and dark as aged brandy, catching his scent of mint, musk, and something that could only be described as 'coppery', unaware of all the blood woven into the threads of his suits. He stands his full length above them and takes the first step back.

They suck in a breath, as if to gain some sort of courage by doing so, and follow him, stepping forward, having to amount a larger step with his longer legs. He noticed this as a hindrance, and decided his next step, right, would be less sweeping to accommodate his partners height difference. They attempt to take in his visage while keeping up, admiring his gaunt features, his dark, sleepless eyes.

Anxiously, they squeeze his hand but take care to leave limp the hand at his side. William keeps a firm grip, carefully executing the steps in a way that they can keep up. They notice the other dancers, moving at a quicker pace, playing out difficult maneouvers -- Rather, they _look_ simple enough, but doing them was a whole different story. Their cheeks burn, eager to keep pace with everyone else, slightly embarrassed to slow down their dance partner with their inexperience.

Half steps here, full steps there, terms they were unaware of, only mimicking to keep up pace. They had forgotten to breathe complete breaths and found themselves winded after the first demonstration. William took another pause, easing his arms to indicate a break before the next series of movements. The other dancers took care to avoid them with only an occasional dirty look here or there.

As the other dancers switched direction, William switched hands, motioning which ones to hold, and which ones would rest at the sides. Accidentally, they squeezed his side, gasping to themselves as they did so. Thankfully, he ignored it and spared them any embarrassment. He certainly had every opportunity to make them feel foolish. They felt vulnerable in such a position, trusting that he was going to take care of them.

They glance down, distracted by the shine in his shoes, and the perfectly ironed crease in his black suit slacks, causing them to briefly trip in following a motion. William clutched tight to keep them from falling, moving the hand at their side around their midsection in a protective embrace. Letting out a surprised sound, they immediately glanced up to make sure they had not angered or upset their gracious dance partner. Expecting a look of irritation, he was instead smiling, albeit a faint smile, as his arm slithered away and back to it's original position. The closeness had them feeling light-headed, dizzying as it all was. There was a dream-like quality to it all, as drunk as the subtle tinge of rich wine on his breath.

"Careful, love." He had leaned in to whisper, "You'll catch your death."

"Not if you're here to save me."  
  
They whispered back, unaware that he was one of the surgeons who had returned, considering him only as a chivalrous, romantic stranger. William would accept the comment however it was meant, and prepared them for another set of movements.

This time they were determined not to become distracted, focusing instead on accuracy, matching their partner, and would stress the details later. They were already certain they would forget this lesson after tonight, but that did not matter in the moment. Proving they could keep up with him and earn the privilege to dance with him was what they wanted. Seemed silly to want to " _prove_ " something to a handsome stranger, but then, life itself was full of these silly instances that get taken for granted and spoiled. They wanted to feel engulfed in the situation and be swept up in it, and so it would be.

The pauses became smaller and smaller, switching hands, switching directions, movements, and at the peak of the music, William had them limbered up enough that he twirled their arms over their head, a gentle spin around, and back around again, watching as he freed a hand to stretch outward, a leg in the same fashion accompanied with a small bow. They followed through with everything just a moment just a bit too late, but he slowed himself to allow them to execute the move for themself before returning to the original position. Everyone around them stopped. The men bowed, the women curtsied, to signify that their dances had come to an end.

The couples gave a clap to the orchestra. The group returned their applause with a gracious bow, mouthing 'thank you's.

William would have preferred to slip away, but decided it would be rude not to escort them back to their seat before saying his farewells.

"I hope I was not too goose-footed for you. You aren't embarrassed of me, are you? I would not blame you at all if you were..."

"Not at all." A hint of pride in his voice.

"That's a relief." They sighed, feeling a weight lifted.

"It was my pleasure. Keep at it. You'll get a sense of the rhythm and timing. We were all beginners once, after all."

"You have a point, sir."

He took a moment to glance around, watching as the couples were preparing to leave, some already heading out with their partners. He felt obligated to ask.  
  
"Where is your escort...?"

They had come with friends, but it seemed they were all leaving with someone, too far out of earshot to stop them, too rude to call out to them.  
  
"Ahh... Well, you see... I believe they have all left."

He shook his head, crossing his arms.  
  
"That simply will not do. I insist you allow me to escort you home."

' _Well, if he insists..._ ' They think to themselves, offering their hand. "How can I refuse? Lead the way, Mr. Amery."


End file.
